"Hello?"
"Wilson? Its Mary."
"Hi. You OK?"
"No. I can't do this. I have to tell everyone tomorrow about what happened, plus a detective at the police station in the morning. This is too much."
"Well, maybe you can take it one step at a time. Do you want me to do anything?"
"I don't know. I just-" She breaks up and starts to cry.
He sympathizes with her. "I know your hurting. Did you get any sleep yet?"
"No. I'm not really tired, and I couldn't sleep if I tried. Did you?"
"No, I've been thinking about you. Look, um, do you want to talk? I could rive over there if that's OK with you and you're parents."
"That'd be nice. Maybe we could just sit and watch some T.V. though."
He laughs, "Ok. I'll be there in 20 minutes."
"Thank you."
Mary walks downstairs and waits for Wilson to get there. She goes into the kitchen to get some tea, and is startled to see her parents still sitting there. "Um…I called Wilson; I couldn't sleep. He's coming over to talk with me. I hope that's OK. We won't be too loud." She tells them. "That's fine. But sooner or later your going to have to talk with us you know. We want to help you through this." Her father says. "I'm going to need some time." She says, all expression gone from her voice. They can see the pain in her eyes, and all they can do is nod.
There is a knock at the door, and Mary answers it. Wilson is standing there with some paper and two pens.
"What's this?"
"Well, I was thinking and I know that you kind of don't want to talk. So I figured you could write. You can write everything your feeling, and I'm going to write something to you. You don't have to write for me to see it, though, you write for yourself. Unless if you'd rather talk…"
"No, that's a good idea. I like it."
They walk into the family room and sit down on the couch. They write for a while, and don't say a word. Wilson looks at Mary writing furiously, and figures that this really was a good idea. After about an hour, the sun starts to come up. Realizing it was time for him to go, Wilson looks up from his paper. He sees that Mary has fallen asleep at the other end of the couch. He folds his letter and places it on Mary's stomach, and gets up to leave. He steps on a squeaky floorboard and Mary stirs. She opens her eyes and sees Wilson leaving. "Wilson, wait." She says, and hands him her letter. "I don't remember if I finished it though." He smiles and grabs the papers. "Sleep," he says, "you've got a busy day ahead of you. It's five o'clock in the morning. I'll talk to you later. Good luck with everything. Good night."
Mary rolls over and tries to go back to sleep. After five minutes, she realizes that she's now wide-awake. The events of last night begin to sink in, and tears start to form in her eyes. She quickly stops them, though, and grabs Wilson's letter.
Mary,
Since you told me what happened to you, I've been worried about you. I can't even fathom how you are feeling, especially being well aware of your morals. I know from experience that it has not always been easy for you to live up to them. Now, it's almost as is they have been stolen from you. I can't even begin to imagine what that must feel like.
I sympathize with how you are feeling though. In my opinion, the worst part of all of this is that someone has changed your personal definition of "sex" without any bit of your consent. From what I understand, you were brought up believing that sex was a wonderful thing to be shared with someone you love and were bonded together with through marriage. And even though I was never really married, I can tell you that all of that is true. Now you probably think that sex is wrong, and scary, and dirty. I feel bad about that, because you will be scarred for life.
I realize, though, that I cannot empathize with you. I will never know truly what you are going through or how you feel no matter how well you explain it to me. You are experiencing hurt that I will never even begin to feel. Watching you in all of that pain hurts me. I wish that I could take some of it from you, or that we could share it, so that you wouldn't feel so bad. I guess the next best thing to doing that though is to help you to get through it. Like I said before, I am here for you whenever you need me. I'll help you through everything that I can. You're going to have some tough times ahead of you, and I will be there for you if you want me to be.
I want to finish by telling you that yes; I do have feelings for you. I know you Mary; I know what's going through your head. And yes, I do love you. It's not the type of love you might think though; it's the friendly type. Right now, my feelings are all feelings of friendship. That is where they are going to stay for a LONG while, for your sake. But I do want to be your friend. I believe that just because I am your ex, doesn't mean that we can't be friends. I know more about you than you think, and I can be a better friend than you are willing to realize. I care about you, and I hate to see you like you were today. What I want, though it doesn't matter right now, is for us to remain friends, and for me to help you through this so you can return back to being that happy, carefree Mary Camden everyone knows and loves. You know where to reach me if you want to talk, and I am more than happy to listen. Keep your head up high and remain strong. You can overcome this. If you have any doubts, I'm here for you. Now go back to sleep!
-Wilson
A smile comes across Mary's face, as she rolls over to try to get some sleep. I hope he understands my letter. After 10 minutes, Mary gets up and walks up stairs. If Wilson wants to help me that much, then think of how my parents must feel. I guess I'll let them talk to me; I'm just not in the mood right now, though. She knocks on the door of her parent's bedroom.
"Can I come in?"
"Sure sweetie. Are you feeling any better today?" her mother asks her.
"I don't know. A little; not really." She sits down on the bed, and begins to cry. Her mother puts her arms around her, but Mary pulls them off.
"Don't touch me!" her mother is hurt, and Mary tries to explain. "Sorry. I just don't want anyone touching me."
"What time did Wilson leave?" Eric asks sternly.
"Actually, about 15 minutes ago. We stayed up writing. I fell asleep, but when he went to leave he woke me up."
"Oh. So you did get some sleep?"
"Only 20 minutes worth. I'm not tired though. But I couldn't sleep if I tried; my thoughts are too loud; they keep me awake. I don't know what to do. Dad, you counseled people who have been raped, where do I go from here?"
"Well, that's the thing. You're going to need counseling. And not counseling from me, from someone else; maybe Reverend Hamilton. And besides that, as long as everything is OK with you physically, you'll just have to wait. Time heals all wounds, and eventually things will go back to normal. We're all here to support you no matter what Mary. We love you very much."
"I know."
"But, we all can't help you if we all don't know." Annie says. "Have you figured out how you're going to tell them?"
"Yeah, I have. I think I'll do it now; get it over with."
She walks out of the room and into her bedroom. "Luce, do you have any paper?" she asks. Lucy hands her two sheets, and Mary takes them. She rips off three strips, and writes a message on each. On two of them, she writes "Last night, Robbie raped me." On the third she writes. "Last night I was raped. Ask mom to explain it to you." She hands one of the first two to Lucy, the next to Simon, and the last one to Ruthie. Then she runs down the stairs to get away from it all. At that moment, Eric walks down the hallway. Lucy swings open the door to her bedroom, "Oh my god, Where's Mary?!" Next is Simon, "Where's Mary? I want to talk to her." He is followed by Ruthie, "Where's Mommy?". Caught off guard, he answers "Your mother is in the bedroom. I don't know where Mary is, but leave her alone right now. Don't ambush her all at once."
Reverend Camden walks down the stairs and finds Mary in the kitchen.
"They all want to talk to you."
"I know, but I don't know what to say to them. That's why I told them the way I did."
"Well, maybe they could sit down with you privately, not all at once, and you can answer their questions if you're ready to. We could do it tonight; I think they'd all appreciate it. What do you say to that?"
"Um…I have to make a phone call."
She runs upstairs to her bedroom and grabs the phone. Lucy looks up from a textbook she is studying from and stares through, not at, Mary. "I have to make a phone call. Can a have a couple of minutes?" she asks Lucy, implying for her to leave. "Oh…um…yeah. Sure." Lucy walks out and Mary picks up the phone.
"Hello?"
"Wilson? It's Mary. I hate to bother you again, but I was wondering if you could do me a favor."
"What?"
"Could you come over sometime this afternoon or tonight. Everyone knows now, and my dad wants me to talk to everyone, one by one, and answer all of their questions. I was wondering if you'd sit with me and help me through it while I talk to all of them. I can't do it by myself."
"Um…sure if that's what you want. But don't you want to be alone while you talk with your family? I don't want to intrude.
"No. I need you to help me."
"Ok. I have to see if I can get my mom to watch Billy again, though."
"Bring Billy over here. Someone will watch him, I promise."
"Ok. So around what time?"
"Whatever's good for you."
"4:30 OK?"
"Yeah, that's fine. Thanks so much."
"Your welcome."
"Bye"
Mary walks back downstairs to find her dad sitting in the same spot she had left him. "Did you make your phone call?" he asks her. "Yes. Could I do it at 4:30? Wilson's going to come over and help me." She tells him. "Your mother and I could help you." he says to her. "I know," she replies, "but I want Wilson. He understands me and its easy for me to talk to him; easier than its is for me to talk to you." Her father glares at her, and she realizes what he must be thinking. "Dad," she tells him, "we're only friends. Calm down; I'm not that stupid." "I know, I just don't like the idea of it all, considering what happened to you last night," he says. "But you know Wilson." She pleads. "You know he's a good guy. And we're just friends. What's the big deal?!" Mary storms up the stairs to her bedroom.
At the West house, Wilson is finally getting around to reading Mary's letter.
Wilson,
I really like this idea of yours. First off, I just wanted to thank you for everything today. You've been a huge help. To tell you the truth, you're the only one I can stand to be around. It's weird, though, because at first I was reluctant to come to you. I didn't know what you were going to think, especially because this had to do with Robbie. But I figured that in the end you would come through, and you did.
I'm so scared though. You think the scary part would be when it happened, but it's not. Yes, that was scary, too, but to tell you the truth it's all just a blur. It was less than 12 hours ago and I don't even remember it. The scary part is now. I can't stop thinking about possibly being pregnant. I can't have a baby; I'm still a baby myself. I'm not even responsible for my own life. How could I possibly be responsible for the life of someone else? I'm really scared. And if I'm not pregnant, I could have an STD. I'm pretty sure that Robbie wasn't a virgin. What if I get HIV or something else? This isn't fair. I know you said that you'll help me through any of that, but how much can you do? If I get sick, what can you do? If I get pregnant what can you do? You'll sit with me for a while, but that wouldn't make a difference. You'd go home at the end of the day, but it's my life, and my body. No matter how many times you say, "It's going to be OK" it won't. The thing that hurts even more though is that I really didn't do anything wrong. He was the one who did this to me, but I get stuck with all of the bad stuff (the emotional scarring and all that).
But I can already tell though that I'm going to be OK, eventually. There's also kind of a weird feeling I have. I feel completely betrayed. I trusted him, and look what happened. Why should I ever trust anyone again? And I have to say that I don't feel like I trust anyone. I don't trust my parents to be there for me, I don't trust my brothers and sisters to understand, and I don't trust myself to make any coherent decisions. The thing that seems strange, though, is that I trust you. I can tell you all of this and still feel that good will come of it; even after all I have been through. That's kind of scary, too, but not surprising. I always trusted you since the day I met you. Whenever I'm with you I feel safe.
I'm really confused, too. There are all these "what ifs" floating around in my head. Like, what if he comes back? What am I going to do? I don't want to see him again, ever. What if he tries to do this to me again? How do I protect myself? What if he comes after Lucy? I don't know; hopefully he won't. I can't stress on that stuff if I want to get through this, but it's really hard.
And you know, I looked at one of those papers they gave me, and it says that usually you need time to recover from this and be by yourself. I don't want to be by myself. I want to be with you Wilson. I…I don't know. Whatever went wrong in our relationship, I'm sorry. I've been thinking about you lately, before all of this happened. You haven't changed at all since I met you. (That's a good thing.) You're still a wonderful guy. Well, thanks again. I'll repay you for this someday, don't worry.
-Mary
p.s. I do want you to help me through this. I need you.
Wilson is touched by the letter, and realizes what he should do next. "C'mon Billy, we're going to the library. Daddy has to look something up."